In the last few years, I’ve been absolutely obsessed with finding fantasy books that make me feel warm, happy, and safe–like a hug from a good friend. I think I’ve always been the sort of person who wants fiction to tie up in a nice little bow, where all the threads are resolved, where everyone gets a HEA (happily ever after) or a HFN (happily for now), and where nothing particularly bad happens…
Hello everyone! Where we last left off following the adventures of Chelsea Counsell, American Wizard, we found her vomiting and feeling sorry for herself… So what happened in the rest of 2022?
In writing, “show, don’t tell” is a frequently touted maxim, probably because the CIA pushed it into prestigious writing communities like the Iowa Writer’s Workshop and the Paris Review, and they, in turn, spread it as an unbreakable literary law. But unless you only want…
This month, I read Roshani Chokshi’s Aru Shah and the End of Time, a middle grade novel about an Indian preteen who has to come into her power as a “soul-daughter” of a Hindu god of the heavens in order to stop an ancient, world-destroying evil that she, herself, accidentally summoned. The book is good. The book is good in a way that makes me screw up my eyes and puff out my cheeks and become a red-faced jealousy goblin. And so…
It’s 2020 and I am 28. I don’t know what exactly happened, but I’ve gotten much better at narrowing down the type of books I want to read. Spoiler: they involve animals and girl power. When I was a teenager, I had a collection of like 800+ unread books stacked all over my room that […]
